


Saints Need Sinners

by NebulaGazer (IsurvivedReichenbach221B)



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessional, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Post-The Boondock Saints (1999), Pre-Movie, References to Boondock Saints (Movies), Slow Burn, aggressive shower makeout, connor struggles, damn rocco and his shit girlfriends, handjobs, he always struggles, i'll add more later, is because he feels the same, lots of brotherly aggression because its the boys, mostly murphy POV, religious themes because it's the boys, sorta - Freeform, the boys wish their dirty thoughts away, the only reason connor doesn't agree with how murphy feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25780747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsurvivedReichenbach221B/pseuds/NebulaGazer
Summary: Alcohol exists as a huge part of any Irishman's life. How is Connor going to handle the fact that he suddenly finds himself attracted to his baby brother whenever he gets tipsy or worse, drunk? Murphy has no idea what's going on with his brother but he knows how he feels. It's a sin that no one of any belief should do: lay with blood. Yet, the need is a small ember inside of Murphy that only seems to grow the more he stomps on it.These events occur before the first movie.
Relationships: Connor MacManus & Murphy MacManus, Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Our Saints

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie, this started out as a PWP one-shot but here we are. I just love the boys so much.
> 
> This work is not beta'd  
> I don't own any rights to the characters of The Boondock Saints I or II movies or comics.  
> The title is a quote from Alan Watts.
> 
> As a reminder, because I needed one. Connor is the eldest, Murphy is the youngest.

Rocco did not now nor would he ever enjoy the early morning church services. However, he fully enjoyed the only two people he had on the planet for friends. Even on the nights where Rocco had spent hours with the gang, pretending to be their friend despite the underhanded comments, he’d wake up early to drive the two. This was one of those mornings.

Keeping his comments to himself, he waved at the two as Connor tapped the door and then left. At least he didn’t have to pick them up when it was done. Rocco would never understand their devotion but that was alright. Without another thought, he drove off. Whoever he cut off honked at him and he tossed out the bird.

Inside the church, the MacManus brothers went to the pews and found a seat. They liked to have the aisle spot, parking it beside each other. Rosaries tugged out of their clothes and they clutched the cross with both hands. Devoted, they sat in utter silence. The singers did their part, a few of the younger kids giving it their best, and then the Preacher rang his voice through the building. Connon and Murphy closed their eyes and sank to their knees at the familiar sound and let it soak into their skin, muscles, and bones. It was a euphoric feeling that compared to nothing else they had ever felt, short of the love for their mother and each other.

Some time toward the end, Connor reached over and bumped knuckles with Murphy. Surprised, this not happening since they were kids, Murphy opened his eyes and side-eyed his older brother. Innocent as the day he was born, Connor was kneeling with his eyes closed and face a practiced placid. The shit.

Squinting, Murphy closed his eyes and focused again on the sermon. Only a short few minutes later did the two rise in time with the other. Slipping into the aisle, they walked up to the podium and past the Pastor who didn’t glance at them once, didn’t even pause. At the larger-than-life statue of Jesus, both brothers kissed the feet and then headed out.

A cigarette is lit in each mouth before they took off down the street towards work. After years of the same thing, they knew exactly when to leave in order to make it to work in time to not be late. They had a strict rule about these things in order to keep their lifestyle the same but their leisure was whatever they wanted. Aside from work, chores, church, and the often call to mother, there was nothing they had set to schedule. Often, the chores were negotiable.

“Yu’re a shite, ya know that?” Murphy spat out after the second drag on his smoke. With a glance sideways, hee caught his elder brother’s shit-eating grin.

“I’ve no idea what yu’re on about.”

“Yea,” Murphy scoffed before pulling harder on the smoke. He blew out the white in a stream upwards above his head. A flash of memory sparked, vague and simple about seeing a train blowing smoke on some TV show years ago in their youth. It was there and then pushed aside before he gave it any further thought. “Ya think we ought to head ta Mcginty’s after work?”

“When’s the last time we were there?” Connor’s brow pinched in thought. The two glanced side to side down the street before crossing and then continuing on their way.

“Dunno. Ya had the last beer last night, ya twat.” With a smack, the younger got his brother good but Connor attacked back right away and hit harder. Wincing, Murphy learned his lesson for now.

“I’m sold.”

Their walk was finished after their second smoke. They put out the butts and then tossed them in the nearest garbage before they headed in and clocked into work.

~

The sound of the bar doors opening and closing were musical to the Irish blood found inside of Mcginty’s. The MacManus brothers were welcomed like blood brothers and Doc waved them over. They found stools and plopped down to Doc already pouring them a drink.

“How’s it g-g-shit fuck!-going b-boys?”

“Doin’ just fine now,” Murphy mumbled as he downed the shot right off the bat. Connor watched without comment. It had been a hard day at work.

“We’re a wee tired but fine. You?”

“I had a p-pick up last week. Money p-p-fuck!-paid and killed two birds with one stove.”

“Tha’s really good, Doc.” Connor meant it even as they smirked at Doc’s words. He took his shot as Murphy took his second and then the night picked up.

Tomorrow they didn’t have work so they let loose. Laughter and insults filled the air along with cigarette smoke. The day turned over and others wandered in, welcomed warmly. The accents were so thick at this point it was tremendously hard to understand if the dialect wasn’t familiar. At one point, Murphy got on a run about no god women Irish ever went bar hopping. 

“It’s ‘cause a’ y’r face! Th’ lass’s smell ya’ down tha block!” Connor howled out laughing and someone slapped the table through their guffaws. Murphy tossed his drink half on his brother and the person beside him. Someone threw a fist and no one laughed for a few quick, harsh minutes.

Doc hated it but when the rowdy turned a point, he tossed out them all. Of course, there were never any hard feelings to be had. Still, the MacManus brothers stumbled themselves home--which wasn’t too far--and tumbled into their run-down apartment.

“Som’th’n’ smells,” Murphy comment on dryly. He stumbled to a knee and his palms but pushed back up. Stumbling, he managed the couch.

“Is you.” Following the younger, Connor lowered to the couch with a smirk. He gained a smack half on the shoulder and chest. Even in his intoxicated state he knew if he hit back it would be too hard so he just shoved the arm away. He fumbled with the one hand to grab at Murphy but the other shoved away a few times. Not even sure why he did it, Connor aggressively pursued the idea of getting hold of Murphy.

Fingers grabbed, arms were shoved, and then he finally got ahold of Murphy’s neck. The spine nestled roughly against the palm of his hand as he laughed a bit.

“Ge’ off!”

“Na. Look.”

The soft sound of his voice stilled the younger and Murphy, completely confused on what he was supposed to be looking at, allowed Murphy’s thumb to turn his face as they looked at each other. Murphy scrunched his brows in distaste.

“I see shite.”

Like a cobra, in retaliation for the comment, Connor shot forward and bit the tip of Murphy’s nose. The younger reeled back, not very far, and raised his hands to fight off the painful attack. A sling of colorful curse words and violent names started out of his snarling lips. Not more than two made it out before the hand on the back of his neck jerked him forward and his mouth was crushed.

To his drunken mind, it took him far longer than it ever would have under normal circumstances to understand he had just been kissed. Not a gentle kiss by any means, but it was a real kiss. Connor pressed nice and tight, lips not even twitching towards the opening. Murphy couldn’t comprehend anything so he had no time to respond. It could have been considered an accident however Connor pulled back and then kissed a second time. There felt more purpose behind this. A thumb pressed the corner of his mouth and his lips were all but forced apart. Sparks ignited in his chest, shoulders, and throughout his spine and brain as he tasted the slippery muscle of Connor’s tongue. One swipe, two, and then gone.

Then Connor was gone.

A chill existed where Connor had been a moment before. Stunned, Murphy stayed sitting with his mouth open. A little bit of a sway came upon him and he touched his tongue around his mouth a little, finally closing it. He could taste alcohol and his brother. What a completely wild thing to have happened.

Where the hell had he gone?!

Then there was nothing.

~

Not one prone to migraines, Murphy would still bet that hangovers were worse. He would not, however, bet money on it. The light from the windows, covered in pretty useless blinds, woke him before noon. His back and right leg were stiff from falling asleep on the couch that had seen more years than he had been in America. In the bedroom less than eight feet away he could hear Connor’s drunken snoring. Jealousy rippled through him and he pushed to his feet. No need for work? Wonders.

Murphy took a pee and then threw himself back on his bed. In one of the most irritating moods he’d had in a while, he realized he wasn’t going back to sleep. Sitting upright in his bed didn’t help since his head still pounded but it was irritating just lying there. With a sigh, he snagged some fresh clothes and went to shower. It was a wide-open apartment but he hoped Connor was asleep enough not to wake up from the water. He was right.

Once his shower was done and he smelled nothing like alcohol and death, the younger brother shoved his wallet into his back pocket and slipped out. His rosary rested comfortably against his diaphragm, a cigarette between his lips to keep him company. Though it wasn’t often, the two did spend time away from each other.

He was about half a block away before he lifted his lighter up to start the cigarette. He stopped when he absently pushed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He’d brushed so the taste wasn’t there but he suddenly could recall the way Connor’s body had been so close to his, that strong muscle demanding attention. Murphy stared straight forward, feet stopping. He didn’t even know he was standing on the sidewalk like some asshole. They’d both been drunk but Murphy recalled with startling clarity the way it had felt. His own hand went up now, touching along the back of his neck that had so tightly been handled by his brother. It gave him gooseflesh.

Part of Murphy gave a shiver of excitement at the memory and the sensations that came from it. Another part of his was deeply, utterly disgusted. Their religion didn’t condemn relations between same-sex but siblings… that was another topic altogether. The kiss itself could be enough to suggest eternal damnation, let alone the way Murphy felt about the memory. The fleeting thought of not smoking the cigarette crossed his mind, a small attempt to keep the taste there, but the toothpaste couldn’t be erased or the past. Regardless, Murphy shook his head violently and thrust himself forward back into a walk. Connor hadn’t meant to do it. They hadn’t seen any action for ages and it wore on the man. Probably left over from the comment Murphy had made in Mcginty’s.

The corner store held Tylenol migraine. With water, more smokes, some chips, and the Tylenol Murphy made his way back home. Two tabs were slammed with a cold bottle of water right next to the corner store. He saw a police cruiser slip past and locked eyes with a thin, brown-haired cop that had a gentle face. All the interaction gained Murphy was a half glare and a once-over. Forgetting the interaction immediately, the Irish brother headed back home.

“Where the fu--” Connor was up and moving about when Murphy opened the front door. He was struck in the head with the bottle of Tylenol and then the fresh pack of smokes bounced off of his inner shoulder. Gathering them up, he squinted at Murphy. Without looking at him, Murphy moved to the kitchen and looked around for something to make.

“Was thinking of hittin’ Rocco up and seein’ if he’d meet us for lunch.” A quick glance to their sometimes useless clock had him smirk and lick some of his teeth. “Or an early dinner.” Both eyed the clock.

“Shit, why not? I gotta shower, though.”

“Wouldn’ let ya along without one.” Murphy waved a hand in front of his face which was scrunched up in heavy disgust. He received the bottle of Tylenol thrown back at him in response. Connor was followed by laughter and Murphy received the bird.

The water turned on and Murphy plopped down on his bed. The couch had been an option but he avoided it in order to avoid the memory that threatened to come back up.

_ Free for early dinner? -Murph _

_ Craving Regina. 20 -DDR _

_ 20 -Murph _

“Rocco says 20 to Regina’s.”

“I could use pizza.” Connor walked from the shower towards the beds. He was drying off and tugged his pants closer with toes.

“Fuck you if yu’re not goin’ ta put on clean pants.”

“Fuck off, my wallet’s in there.” He kicked them to Murphy who caught them everywhere but his hands.

~

Murphy became aware of Connor avoiding alcohol somewhere around the first fifteen minutes of being at Mcginty’s. The previous night with Rocco had gone too fast and then it had been morning which meant work. After a hard work, they’d gone straight to the bar. Doc was busy when they’d entered but had greeted them with shots. Connor hadn’t touched his but was holding it in his hand like he was a moment from bottoming up.

That had been over an hour ago.

Another hour went by and Connor had only about two drinks and still clutched that damn shot. Technically, he occasionally put it down on the table where they sat but would pick it up again to pretend. How could Murphy not think that it was connected to the other night?

“Tired,” Murphy murmured. A handful of the people around them laughed and one nudged his arm. Comments flung out about working too hard and not being able to play.

“Work in th’ mornin’,” Connor interjected as someone started laying into Murph a bit too hard. He finally drank the shot and thrust up from the table.

Murphy watched and then followed a few seconds after. Someone patted his arm and he patted their hand before slipping away. Calls of “good night!” and “stay safe!” rang in deep Irish brogues as Connor dropped payment on the counter.

“G-g-fuck!-g’night boys!” Doc waved them off as he pocketed the money.

They had not drunk nearly as much as the night before. Murphy had watched Connor and had, in the meantime, mostly forgotten to drink himself. The amount Doc received was nearly a 200% tip. Murphy didn’t mention it, though, as he knew they drank there enough that it was worth it. Doc was a good man. Only a small stumble was in his step, one that was corrected at times by Connor who was perfectly steady.

“We got any smokes?” Without a response, Connor put a smoke between pouting lips and helped light it up. Murphy pulled on it hard before they started walking once more. Thankfully, the bar wasn’t too far from where they lived. He navigated the stairs up to their place with further help from Connor but he shoved the man away once inside their apartment.

“If ya fall on your face I ain’t feelin’ sorry for ya.”

Murphy made a noncommittal sound and a scrunched up face as he sank into the couch cushion. It quickly became one of the moments where he wished they could afford a TV and cable. The moments between sleep and plans and work and more sleep were boring. His fingers touched along the back of the couch and he looked over to Connor when the male popped the fridge open. They hadn’t gone grocery shopping for over a week and Murphy made a mental note to do it after work tomorrow. The clarity of his mind still boggled him as they were usually piss drunk.

What had that been all about?

Connor moved to strip into some sweats and then looked over. He gestured to the other bed and Murphy sighed dramatically before following his older brother’s motions before both fell asleep in their beds.


	2. The Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not even in Murphy's mind to question what he feels at first, not really. He knows its bad but is he really thinking about it?Connor, though, seems haunted by the two kisses. Will praying be enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, because I needed one. Connor is the eldest, Murphy is the youngest.

A week passes before the concern of Connor’s alcoholic intake is at a peak. They’dvisited Mginty’s no less than usual but, in all visits combined, Connor had barely passed his usual nightly consumption. They were Irish, for Fuck’s sake. Roughly around two in the morning on a day off, Murphy was about one drink off from being past tipsy. He watched Connor take a  _ sip _ of his second glass from two hours prior and eyed him suspiciously.

“Ya feelin’ okay, Connor?”

“Fine.” Sharp eyes snapped to Murphy who simply stared back. Their gaze simmered between each other and Murphy thought the other was going to throw a punch. Fingers tapped on the mostly full glass and Murphy inhaled slowly.

“Why ain’t ya drinkin’?” Murphy clacked their glasses together a little harder than he should have but the other visitors barely noticed the added noise. Connor didn’t take to it kindly.

“Thin fuckin’ ice, Murph. Mind yur business.”

“Or. What?”

Without another word or comment, Connor pushed up from the table. At first, Murphy didn’t think much of it as Connor took his glass up to the bar. Perhaps his tastes in drink had changed? His sluggish mind finally picked up that Connor was  _ leaving _ only when he was watching his brothers back slip out the front door.

“Shit!” He tossed some money on the table and rushed towards the door. He was stopped by a familiar stutter.

“M-Murph! Your br-bro-fuck ass!-brother forgot his ch-change.”

“Ah, ya keep it, Doc!” With a large wave, Murphy did a pivot back and then forward again before shoving out the door. Doc wishing him safe followed just as it closed behind him.

Connor was already most of the way to their turn and he had to rush to catch up. This did not go well. The alcohol in him slurred his movements and made him run into a few things, notably a light pole and metal newspaper stand. Even through the haze, he felt thee crack to his shin. With a curse, he stumbled onward. Connor, at some point, became aware of the other and turned to watch. When Murphy looked up a few steps later and found his older brother simply watching him it spiked irritation out of nowhere.

“Fuck is yur problem?” The sharp words brought a startled look to Connor.

“You’re the one stumblin’ all over tha sidewalk.”

“At least I drank. You’ve not touched shite since…” He cut short as he came within arm’s length. The words halted on his tongue, mouth open a bit. Connor was now staring at him with intensity, borderline anger.

“Since. When?” It was a challenge. Shoulders squared a little, expression hardening. Fists clenched tight. Murphy knew what it was and he still fell for it. He dove into it as a professional diver at the board.

“It’s because ya kissed me, innit?”

Connor came at him before the words were fully out. He threw a punch and the two tumbled to the ground in a tangle of elbows, knees, and aggressive shoving. Someone grabbed a shirt, a foot kicked something metal, the shirt ripped. Puffs of air wafted up to show the cooling fall air but neither had noticed. The scuffle fight lasted nearly five minutes before they lay on there in pain. Murphy wondered how much pain he’d feel tomorrow tha the alcohol kept from him. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

From the corner of his ey where he lay on his side, he watched Connor stand and come over. Together, the two held onto each other as they walked home. Perhaps Connor thought it was over but Murphy just wanted to get home before they fought to hard and passed out in the street. The last thing they needed was a citation or fine. Up the stairs and threw the door they went. Connor unceremoniously half threw Murphy to the couch while he himself went to sit on the edge of his bed. The two were not far from each other, Murphy still watching Connor for the perfect moment.

“It’s ‘cause ya kissed me, innit?”

“Ya shut yur mouth!” Flame sparked, the voice booming. A finger was thrust at Murphy but he didn’t heed the warning.

“We ain’t never done it before what makes ya think we’ll do it every time we drink?”

“I’m warning ye!”

“Lookit me half plastered and I ain’t comin’ after ya!” It’s not likely he would ever learn not to goad his brother. IT never ended well.

Just like outside, Connor came at him. He grabbed Murphy and hauled him up to his feet. Murphy threw a punch that was mostly dodged and then got one of his own. The two scuffled a bit, mostly in grunts and attempts at dominance but it only lasted until the couch, right there, tripped Murphy backward and the two crashed down painfully Murphy was pinned between the couch and Connor, getting the brunt of the worn piece of furniture. He cursed harshly and shoved.

If he had considered for one moment, just a fraction of a second, that Connor was fighting himself just as much as he was his brother, maybe he would have laid off. Butt, with the stubborn Irish blood coursing freely through their veins it never did occur to him. The shove got Connor up a bit and then their faces were too close. It gave the older brother what he suddenly realized he didn’t want and then, just as before, their mouths crashed. Only this time thee alcohol wasn’t as present.

This time, Murphy kissed back.

Maybe it was because of this that Connor reeled back and shoved Murphy far too hard. He didn’t go anywhere, but it hurt like a bitch and took away a nice chunk of air from his lungs. Shoving up to his feet, Connor swore at least fifteen times. Hands wiped at his mouth and then he spun around with fire in his eyes and venom dripping from his mouth.

“It’s a sin!”

“Connor--”

“No, ya shut y’ur mouth! I been prayin’ for days for forgiveness. I didn’ wan’ you ta remember but here ya are, doin’ the same thing!” A few items on a kitchen counter were shoved off, one a glass jar that shattered upon contact with the floor. Murphy had been trying to keep himself calm up until this point.

“A’course I remember! My brother kissed me!” No longer feeling any of the alcohol, he thrust up to his feet and walked around the glass towards his brother.

“Shut up!” Connor thrust a finger at Murphy. Murphy slapped it away and then again. The two slapped each other a bit before Connor threw a punch that almost fully connected to a jaw. “Ya tell me right now it isn’t a sin! Tell me!”

Murphy couldn’t. He knew just as much as Connor that even the smallest thing as a kiss was wrong. A part of him wanted to go to church and do confession before coming home and scrubbing his flesh raw. They should rinse their mouths and lips with soap while moving their beds away from each other. Would Murphy be too filled with shame to ever go back to church again, though?

Connor delegated himself to clean up the broken glass but Murphy helped. The jar had been around half full of random nails, screws, change, and apparently one thumbtack. A drinking cup replaced the jar and the broken glass sang as it poured into the trash bin. Though Connor didn’t mind the glass staying there, Murphy insisted on taking it out to the dumpster in the back. It would give him some cold air and a walk to clear himself. When he got back up to the apartment Connor was showering while something cooked on the stove. With a sigh, the younger brother tended to the food--some easy rice dish--and then prepared the table. Neither said much of anything as Connor dressed and sat to eat. Less was spoken when Connor cleaned up and Murphy went to shower.

As the two lay down to get some semblance of sleep, Murphy clung to his rosary and rubbed his fingers all over it. He had  _ wanted  _ that kiss. He had  _ wanted _ to be kissed back. He had  _ wanted _ more. Refusing to think about what that “more” was, he gripped the cross hard enough to hurt and forced himself to fall asleep.

~

Rocco was a little bit dim when it came to some things. It was even worse during the early morning when he drove the brothers to church. He didn’t notice the stern look Connor leveled Murphy with twice, nor did he notice the unusually quiet Murphy that simmer with shame.

The two had said almost nothing to each other for two days. The most interaction Connor had allowed them was when they went out drinking. Everything had been normal, except Connor barely drank and Murphy didn’t allow himself to get so bad that he forgot. Forgot to keep his hands to himself and not lean so hard on Connor down the street back home.

Right as they woke up this morning, waiting for Rocco to pick them up, Connor had pulled Murphy close and whispered into his ear.  _ “We will pray today. Father doesn’t need to know but we will pray for forgiveness.” _ How was Murphy supposed to react to that? He’d felt gooseflesh prickle all over his body from the hot air kissing at his skin but he was left with nothing else as Connor left him standing there, tired and partially turned on.

Now, they waved Rocco goodbye and entered the church. They took their seats next to the aisle and wound their fingers with the rosary. It felt so nice in their hands, weight lifting from their shoulders as they felt God brushing worries away. The sermon started and Murphy dropped his head.

He prayed now--nothing unusual--but this was almost fully towards Connor. The prays were to dismiss the thoughts, the desires, the  _ needs _ for their relationship to change. They were a plea for things to go back to the way they were when he didn’t situate himself in his seat with his brother on his mind. Forgiveness for the kiss and all the kisses he craved and the anger towards himself for the situation he found himself in. Connor didn’t seem to have any similar problem with craving Murphy. The older brother had shown nothing but utter disgust and irritation at the thoughts he seemed able to read on Murphy’s face.

Murphy was so deep into his fifth round of  _ take these thoughts from me, Oh Lord, and cleanse me of the feeling of his mouth on mine  _ when Connor stood up. Having not realized the time, Murphy snapped to attention and pushed to follow the other. They slipped past the pastor and to the statue. Murphy had never meant so much as this time the touch of his fingers to the feet of Jesus.

On the street, feeling nicotine fill him with warmth against the ever-chilling air, Murphy eyed his brother. Connor looked a bit chilly but otherwise perfectly fine. Care-free. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Murphy felt far better and most of the issues were gone. They took off down the street and he threw his eyes upwards in a quick  _ “thank you.” _


	3. The Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is deeply struggling with himself, finally picking up his drink again. This time, instead of Murphy he goes after a woman. This doesn't bode well for the brothers when Murphy realizes how much he needs space. To breathe, to cool down, to see. Is Connor ever going to act normal again or will they have to learn to live this way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, because I needed one. Connor is the eldest, Murphy is the youngest.

Wednesday was the start of a four day weekend for them. With a systems update, the company let everyone have two days of paid vacation but they all had to be back on Sunday. As the two left on Wednesday, Connor went by himself to pick up groceries and Murphy took a walk. Along the way, he met up with some people he knew and plopped down to relax for a while.

~

At Mcginty’s on Thursday, Connor drank. Murphy forgot and drank, too. Rocco showed up with a few friends and, after a small brawl over cards two hours later, someone started singing. Murphy howled with laughter as Connor slurred out half-hearted criticism and Rocco tried his hardest to have a conversation with Doc that didn’t involve swearing. It didn’t last longer than a few words. Someone pulled out the dart board and Connor won nearly $300 from the crowd before the group confiscated the darts and made him stop playing.

Friday was the same thing, at least for most of the night. Rocco came again with the same guys who had really enjoyed their time. Even a few of the women that usually rolled their eyes at them came over to play the cards. One of them even beat Connor at darts and then threatened to stab him with one if he were to touch her backside again. It was all in good fun.

Murphy had a little woman ask him about his accent and why it was so thick.

“Grew up in Ireland.” She loved his chin. Rocco sat down at the table and within a few minutes she left. Murphy didn’t mind all too much but he made a cow of it.

“Always scarin’ off the ladies,” Murphy grumbled into his mug. He took a deep swig and the two laughed. It wasn’t long before Murphy realized that the woman with Connor was a bit more serious than the one Rocco had scared off. His first reaction was jealousy and irritation. He forced himself to think of all the other times the both of them had brought women home for one night or multiple, depending on how the woman enjoyed their company and vice versa. Never too long. But still. Not new.

Connor deserved the distraction and the lovely lady that playfully tried stabbing him for goosing her a second, then third time. Any other night, Murphy would have laughed at the ridiculousness, the silliness. Connor always liked the boisterous women. Tonight, he just wanted to sleep on Rocco’s couch.

“‘Ey, Roc,” Murphy motioned with his new beer in a bottle towards his brother and the woman now sidled up to his hip. “Can I come over to yours tonight?” Rocco turned his dark eyes to the elder, watching the woman's hand slip out of sight and Connor’s smile turn more coy.

“Ah, yeah, sure.” The dark curls bounced enthusiastically and Murphy joined in before taking the entire new drink in one go.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait, you don’t wanna tell him first?” Gestures were thrown towards both brothers, a look of disbelief leaving Rocco’s lips parted. Murphy gave a stiff half shrug with a huff. Rocco knew at that point something was up but he couldn’t imagine. He wasn’t close to his own family--what was left of it--so he accepted that some things were not his business to know.

~

There were a few places that Rocco could crash at night. One was with his drugged girlfriends place with her equally messed up occasionally-roomate, a few other shit friends, while another was his own home. The digs were pretty sparse but so was everything in this town for their income. Besides, Murphy could at least have privacy here unlike the wide open apartment with Connor.

The couch was comfy enough except for a small lump on one end. He just put his feet there. It wasn’t his favorite place to spend the night but he didn’t have work in the morning and he was able to get more sleep than if he’d had to listen to his brother all night. Plus, Rocco was so excited for the company that by the time both men were up at noon he had gone out to get crappy breakfast food.

Murphy waited until after he had eaten and the two were relaxed before he pulled his phone up. With a hard wince, he was forced to acknowledge how bad of an idea slipping out on Connor had been. A shift towards Rocco and the other male nodded that he understood.

“You smell funky anyway,” Rocco toyed and Murphy flipped him the bird and gave a kind expletive.

Murphy didn’t want a ride despite it being a bit of a walk. He would need the time anyway. About halfway home he wondered if he should call. Would it be better that way? It wasn’t the first time Murphy had up and left. He was his own person. There were, however, twenty eight missed calls and a barrage of messages asking and then demanding where he was, would he be home, what was he thinking? He was going to get it anyway so he decided to continue ignoring his phone.

Almost an hour had passed since he’d left Rocco’s place. He’d stopped for some ice cream to buy himself even more time. It was nearly an hour by the time he took to the front steps. Here, he realized that having given himself time to think had been a bad idea. Murphy was angry. He was angry about having time to himself without his brother, to having spent time with Rocco who rarely hung out with anyone not in his shitty mob. He was angry that Connor was demanding to be in contact with him. The door handle felt smoothe from years of use under his palm as he unlocked the door and entered.

Murphy was pissed off that Connor had brought a woman home.

Staring down at the mattresses they slept on, Murphy nearly wheezed all of his anger out. His brother lay there, sleeping, without someone else. It took only a few short seconds to look around and find that no other human being took up space in their apartment. It didn't smell like a woman or even like sex. She had never been here. As shame tickled him a bit, he looked back at the earliest message or call. Roughly ten minutes after Rocco and he had left. That had been way too long.

“Shite…” Ruffling his hair, he glanced at Connor. When had the man actually gone to bed? The last message was only two hours ago. Had he waited up out of worry? It sure seemed that way. Blowing out a slow exhale, lower lip puffed out, bangs wiggling, the younger brother didn’t know how to feel. While he had been sleeping on Rocco’s couch and then eating breakfast, Connor had stayed awake with worry. How motherly.

Going over to the couch he lowered himself and wondered what to do. If he was too noisy Connor would wake up and the man was usually the shittiest without enough sleep. Add that with what Murphy had done last night, Connor would probably pitch him out of the window. However, were he to leave and be gone when Connor woke up the result of that might be even worse. But woe, boredom!

The matter took care of itself anyway as Murphy nestled into a comfortable position and found himself dozing off. However, it created a new problem all its own when Connor woke up and saw the younger brother sleeping there.

“How fukin’ dare you!

For two Irish boys growing up in the harsh reality of an unrelenting city, the fight or flight response would always come up as fight. Even out of a heavy sleep, Murphy woke up swinging when a hand slapped him across his chest. The brothers burst into violent swear words and tossed hits, scuffling first upright and then staggering to the floor when Murphy found it impossible to stand up from the couch while being assaulted. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard Connor snarling out words to him which he retorted with his own.

“Out all night!”

“What of it!”

"Wanker!"

“Useless!”

“Gobshite!”

“Pot o’ piss!”

“Good God, the head on ya!” At this one, Connor shoved hard away from his younger brother with a kick and the two split up. “Ha’me up all nig’ worryin’ abou’ ya!” The accent dripped thick as molasses in anger.

“Ya, right! Like ya care!” Thrusting upright, Murphy dove into snarls of his own. “Rocco an’ I left to find somewhere away from yer attitude! Ya been bein’ a shit fer ages and I wanted some space.”

He inhaled for a breath, ready to get a barrage back but paused when he noted his older brother simply staring at him. Breathing hard, both stare at each other, both angry and irritated and waiting for a bomb. Every part of him that Connor had hit was starting to ache but it only made him want to lash out more. What was Connor doing, thinking so sideways about all of this? Not drinking, getting drunk, being pissy that Murphy had given him space? Murphy wanted to demand answers, to demand an explanation for why Connor was avoiding him.

A phone went off, a small chime that repeated, and Murphy flinched. He looked over to where his phone had tumbled to the floor by the couch either while he’d been asleep or while he’d been assaulted. It didn’t matter, because he saw Rocco’s name and that meant he should answer it. Looking back at his brother, he frowned and rolled his shoulders back.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” Murphy was willing to talk, to understand. Was this about the kissing, still? He wished to all levels of Hell and Heaven that his brother would just talk to him. “Ya droolin’ over all tha women in the bar, I figure ya want some space--”

“Nuthin’ to talk about. I didna bring anyone home.”

With an irritated snarl, Murphy grabbed the phone and answered it as he plopped back onto the couch.


	4. The Crossed Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it just funny how one thought can overwhelm the mind and then the life? Murphy continues his struggles but he doesn't seem to realize that he is fighting a losing battle inside. Hasn't he already made up his mind to do something about how he feels? Trouble is, will talking to the Father be the cure he needs it to be, or will it just make things so devastatingly worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is not beta'd.
> 
> As a reminder, because I needed one. Connor is the eldest, Murphy is the youngest.
> 
> Disclaimer! I have never been to confession and hope I do it right. Going off my memory of the movie best I can because who has time for movies when you gotta write, right?

He needed. Help. 

Rocco wanted him to come over later in the night--technically he wanted both brothers--but Murphy wasn't sure he could do it. Church service would be in the early morning and it was likely Rocco would want to stay up far too late. Murphy couldn't be sleepless, hungover, or, God forbid, drunk.

"If ya wanna go, I won't be stoppin' ya." Murphy gave the news to his brother who still wasn't done being upset. However, Rocco was a dear friend and they were brothers. All things could be forgiven. 

"Ya forget about church?" The shake of his head was light but pointed. "Ya be daft at times, Murph."

At least it broke the ice. 

~

The morning came at them like all others. They woke, prepared, and headed out. Rosaries hung from their necks under their shirts, the weight against their flesh a comfort. Each of them smoked on the walk there, enjoying the early bird chirps and noisy cars rolling past. Something about the crisp morning air helped soothe them of the bruises from their fight the night before.

Connor and Murphy settled into their spot and tugged a bible from the pew hold. They flipped through, looking over pages together while waiting for the sermon. Under their breath, heads tucked together, they tried to best the other on remembering certain lines. They were moments away from an argument before the sermon started and they joined those around them.

Murphy enjoyed the holiness that drenched inside of him and his mind. God could cure anything and it made his nameless, internal itches feel like nothing. Restless, he was, but in here he felt good. All that was missing was their mum. It was almost enough for him to forget his second reason for wanting to be perfectly on his toes today. 

Almost. 

The last songs rang out and Connor prepared to leave but Murphy gave a small tug on his brother's coat sleeve.

"Confession." It was all he needed to say. Connor didn't even glance back at him before pivoting and heading over to the boxes. Once there, he murmured he'd be having a smoke and then left Murphy. Good. 

With a steady breath, the younger of the two brothers slipped in and settled onto the wooden bench. This wasn't his first time--and was far from his last--but he had uncomfortable business to attend to before he headed home and all came crashing down on his head again. He rolled his eyes upward, breathing out of his o-formed lips.

"Hello, my son."

"Good mornin', Father. It has been two weeks and four days since my last confession." Murphy crossed himself and squeezed his eyes shut. Did he really want to do this?

"Tell me, if you wish." The prompt came after an admittedly long silence and Murphy huffed at himself.

"Can I be vague, Father?"

"Of course, though I encourage you to remember there is nothing that will leave the confessional."

Obviously, but Murphy didn't even want to say it. Didn't want to hear it.

"I've been havin' thoughts… Not tha kin'a thoughts of harmin' me or others but… A sin at any rate." He ran a hand over his face, his brother's image in his mind. That mouth and hair, those gorgeous eyes. The snarky curl of those lips and how warm Connor always was. Like a damn furnace, he was so cozy. "It's about someone I cannot' have. As in, anythin' more than what we have."

"Yearning isn't much of a sin, my Son. Sometimes, the sin lies only in the act."

"..." Murphy wasn't sure how to respond, exactly. That was a clear point but he'd already kissed Connor. He'd come really close to doing it again. And the Lord above knew he wanted more. "They're pretty strong urges, Father. I pray for them ta leave. Ta run away ta wherever they come from."

"Praying will always help."

"Is there any advice, Father?"

"Perhaps, if the urges and thoughts are too strong, spending time away would be best. Or speaking to this person, if possible, could help if they understood your feelings."  
Speaking to Connor would never work. Spending time away would never work. Unless he gave specifics, there was nothing he'd be getting out of this. Every split second he thought about just blurting it caused his brain to scream back don't you dare do it! They were members of the church and everyone knew them. In reality, if he blurted it out he'd never want to come back. He'd be full of more shame than he could handle. Guess he was breaking quite a few important rules of confessional. 

"Thank you, Father… and I am truly sorry for all my sins."

"Amen."

"Amen."

Connor was waiting just outside. He stepped in line with Murphy the second he passed him, handing over a fresh cigarette.

"Ya could use it more than me. Feel better?" Murphy took a long drag and nodded, lying about that, too. He didn't exactly feel better but he wasn't any worse. Guess that was better than nothing.

~

Two days later 

Late, Rocco showed up for drinks at Mcginty's. The brothers gave him shit for it but they settled eventually.

"Long day, boys. Absolutely long shit day." Rocco thrust hair from his face and then downed a shot right away.   
"Wa's wrong? Flora dumb ya?"

"Fuck off! Nah. Boss pushed me hard today. Donanza promised me somethin' by the end of the month if I didn't drag my ass. What's he know! Drags it all over like a bitch with worms!"

"Ahhh! They treat ya like shite. Have another." Murphy shoved a bottle over and Rocco snarched it tossing the bottom most of the way up before coming out for air.

"We had a nice day at tha job. Played around with a new boi. Youngun!" Smoke between fingers, Murphy held his hand out to show a visual. 

"He wasna that short, ya pilfer, taller an ya!" Connor had partaken the drink and his accent was thick and loud. "He be a racist prick, tha' boi. Called us names fer… Fer the mouths." He wiggles his fingers in front of his own lips, brows furrowing. Murphy shoved the hand down.

"Ay, he was a right prick. He didna like tha ah… tha second shifter tha strolled in. Her accent is thicker 'an molasses."

"Where she from?" Rocco rolled his bottle like it was prime wine. He watches the two brothers, forever entertained by them drunk or sober. 

"I think Germany."

"No, i’s Russia. Lower Russia, ya can tell from tha dialect."

"Fuck ya know about dialect!"

"Fuck you I know shit!" Connor slapped Murphy's shoulder and Rocco just barely managed to distract them with an arm wave before they started at it.

"Guy sounds like a prick. You think he'll last?"

"Not with the shite that comes from his mouth."

Rocco shot out a laugh and paid for the next round of drinks.

~

At 12:45 am, Rocco’s girlfriend called him and commanded that he come home for whatever she was yelling about. On his way out, Rocco was given smacks and gibes from the brothers and a variety of other friendly drinks. As a treat, before the door closed, Rocco called them a slurred slew of names and spun, flashing two birds before spinning out of Mcgintys.

“Ah, Rocco!” Murphy hollered one last time before sinking a bit into his chair and nursing his drink.

At 2:00 am the bar closed and the brothers attempted to help Doc clean up but they were more destructive than helpful. After the third stool was nearly broken after slipping off the bartop, Doc threatened to throw glasses at them.

“G-get out--fuck! Ass!--of here! You-you boys need a c-cab?”

“Nah, Doc, we okay,” came the slur from the older brother. Holding onto each other's sleeves, stumbling, the Irish pair stumbled from the bar. In their wake Doc shook his head at them, waving a hand towel at them as he came and locked the doors. Through a small window he watched them slip out of view down the sidewalk.

By some miracle, the two boys made it home without getting lost or being hit by someone. A magical feat. They had also burned through the last of their cigarette pack but only realized this upon their front door. With a pat to his pockets, Connor cursed a slur of Irish insults that would have gained a hearty punishment from their dear mum.

“Oi, wha’s yur problem?”

“Finished tha smokes.”

“Shite.”

Neither of them were capable of remembering exactly where the nearest open store was that they could get another pack so they just went inside. As Murphy settled on the couch, he narrowed his eyes towards the kitchen. He had a small inkling that there were smokes still in their stash but he couldn’t remember. The need for one itched on his skin and he was tempted to go look but the couch was comfortable. Was that another spring under his arse poking through the cushion? Groggy eyes rolled toward Connor who was fluffing blankets on their mattresses for some reason. From there, he noted their rosaries were gracefully still hanging on the wall. They never came with to the bar.

“Hot water?” Without realizing his mentality, Murphy started to think about a shower. The idea of a cold one seemed pleasant but the chill outside suggested he might do a warm one instead. Despite that, his legs didn’t even twitch from the couch.

“Probably.” Connor flung his shirt towards their messy pile of dirty clothes beside two laundry baskets. “Wan’ me ta start it fer ya?”

“Ya.”

It was a struggle for him to get up to his feet. The task of stripping down wasn’t any easier but he managed with the help of his shoulder on the wall. Not for the first time--or last--his pants and socks got a bit wet from the shower water. This did not help his situation but he barely noticed as they were tossed to the side and he felt the spray of water.  
Murphy hummed happily, allowing the spray to attack his face. The temperature was neutral, perhaps a little warmer than the room, but he didn’t mind. It slid the day away. His attention was piqued when he heard a second spray of water to his left. With a lean backward, hands cupped at his chest to catch water and back muscles tensing, Murphy opened his eyes. Connor was just finishing undressing at the socks and tossing them with poor grace towards the others. They connected eyes before the older ducked under his own spray and shifted the temperature to what he wanted. With a bit more sobriety than seconds before, Murphy snagged the body wash and filled his washcloth.

The washcloth sat in the palm of his hands, soap rising and covering the dark cloth. He watched it, transfixed both by the sight of the soap and the sound of Connor near him. Why was life so hard? There were faint memories of the beginning of the day where he’d confessed his sinful thoughts and Father literally just told him the only sin would be to act upon the urges. Trying to focus on self-control, he scrubbed at his body. The smell of their shared soap filled his nose and he looked over again. Connor seemed lost under the spray of the water and oh, fuck, he was gorgeous.

With soap still on his skin, he took a partial step over and, cloth covering his hand, he put it to Connor’s neck. The older opened his eyes in surprise but didn’t turn away. Growing up and even now they showered together, it was just that it had been a long time since they’d assisted each other in washing. At least ten years. Soap trailed across Connor’s collarbone and shoulder before heading down the strong curve of an arm. Instead of going back up Murphy just jumped over to that flat stomach and rubbed in circles as he covered that stomach and then ribs, curving each peck and then the full chest. His fingers curled the cloth around a shoulder and then left the cloth there with a weird flick of his wrist.

“Fuck you,” Connor growled viciously. Everything happened so fast from then.

Murphy shot forward with desperate need but ended up and headbutted Connor who shoved him but then grabbed him by the arms, yanking him forward. The crack of their mouths connecting split one or both of their lips. They could taste blood but neither of them felt it. Neither of them cared. Soapy, slick hands grabbed at each other as a fight ensued where Connor started to shove Murphy away but Murphy clung and then Connor would change his mind and yank him back. Curse words chased heavy breathing and the weird sound of wet flesh smacking. Murphy wasn’t sure if the hitting was less painful due to the water, Connor’s inebriation, or his own intoxication. Then a tongue was in his mouth that wasn’t his own and he lost all thought.

The hard concrete of the shower wall pressed to his back and Connor shoved him into it. Hands sank into hair and heads tipped, Connor taking control of the situation. Murphy somewhat fought back but spent more of his time simply feeling the way Connor’s body pressed into his own. Never in his life had he felt another stick length of flesh against his body but, instead of turning him away as it would have in any other situation, he welcomed it so much he arched into it. Being the same height, his own cock struck between them and the friction. Oh, it was bliss. He thrust into it and gained a punch to the shoulder.

“Fuck!” He snarled, backhanding Connor’s own shoulder. ‘Don’ be a jackass!”

Without comment, Connor pulled Murphy’s face back to his. He used both hands to take over Murphy’s own and held him at the wrist. Muscles flexed as Murphy tried hard to fight against Connor while at the same time not distracting from this. He didn’t want to be pinned and not allowed to do anything but he didn’t want this to stop. Whatever this was. Whatever this would be. One of his arms got free but the other ended up pinned above their heads. He touched slippery skin with fast, needy caresses. The curve of an inner shoulder, ribs, a hip, the delicious curve, and then his hand was between them.

The noise Connor made when Murphy, without hesitating a second, grabbed hold of his thick hard-on was bliss. The two moved against each other as Murphy pumped away at his older brother. The motion was unstable, fast or slow and hard or soft without any rhythm. After a few minutes that felt like ages, he added himself into this and the feeling of velvety flesh pressed tight to his own nearly buckled his knees. Breaking from lips, the two men panted. Need and pleasure overwhelmed them, water and soap forgotten, their sins tossed to the wind. Murphy tasted a clavicle, swirled his tongue and felt teeth scrape his shoulder. There were hints of fingers around Murphy’s throat, an ache in his captive wrist, and teeth at his shoulder. His hips barely gave four more thrusts, those wandering fingers pressing against him, when he came.

With a whimper that morphed into a cry of pleasure, Murphy pumped his hand only over their heads as he messed between them. Connor felt it and moaned. Murphy sagged against the concrete, fingers still around his brother's cock. It was hard, twitching. He gave a weary stroke only for his hand to be swatted away. Blinking a bit, the water raining down awkwardly at them, Murphy watched as Connor stayed pressed in and jerked himself off. A minute or so went by before he came all over Murphy's stomach. He was a noisy one, burying his face in Murphy’s neck and rippling with moaning and groaning. The sound deepened when Murphy held those ribs and slid hands down for his thumbs to tickle the base of his older brothers’ spine.

The two stayed there as the water slowly washed away their actions. When able, they staggered from each other on somewhat uncertain legs. The water was utilized further to fully clean them and then it was turned off. Not a word was spoken as they dried off, tended to the mess of clothes, and then lied down in their respective beds.

With a huff, Murphy reached over for Connor but his hand was shoved away.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Was a heavy warning that Murphy decided he needed to heed. Still, the cold shoulder did nothing to stop the ghost feeling of what they had just done.


	5. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a night of passion, Connor has regrets but how far will he take them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, because I needed one. Connor is the eldest, Murphy is the youngest.

The only difference between waking up the next morning and waking up after a night with a woman was Murphy didn’t smell the woman. He stretched like a lazy cat, mouth wide open and hands pushing hard against the solid wall above his head. With a look over a shoulder he confirmed Connor was still sprawled on the couch. This fact dampened the pleasure of having practically screwed his brother. What an odd thing to think about.

Murphy groaned as he stood and enjoyed the stretch of muscles that reminded him of the shower. Sure, their hard work and rough play had muscles aching often but there was always something different about the frenzy of release, especially with someone else involved.

He scratched his bare ribs and yawned, lazily kicking his blanket back atop the bed. His mum would have a stroke seeing neither of them ever making their beds. Connor made a gorgeous view, one leg up and one arm hanging off the side. A thin blanket was partially draped over his naked chest. With a violent start, Murphy realized that his thoughts and feelings were far worse now than they had been yesterday or any time before.

Oh, no.

The first thought popping into his head was to run to the church. Pray until his lips chapped and knees bruised. Beg for forgiveness until God himself came down and rained punishment upon his sinful soul. Looking at his brother, face twisted in internal pain, Murphy couldn’t bring himself to commit towards the idea of going to church. At least, not this exact moment.

With a knee he nudged a rib and Connor swatted him away. He nudged again, a third time, and on the fourth Connor gave a solid smack to his thigh. Murphy huffed and open-palm slapped Connor on his bare chest. With a howl, the older brother shot upright and swung a fist but missed as the younger took a step backwards.

“We got an hour.” Murphy grumbled and Connor glared.

“Fukin’ cock.”

Murphy made a noncommittal grunt and watched his brother lean hard on an elbow. One hand thrust up into hair, ruffling the dark locks as Connor worked himself awake. It was a sight he’d seen a million times but this time, he wanted to be involved. He was on the border of being serious and being a nuisance when he pushed his knee back towards Connor. The knee was swatted at, barely touched, and Murphy kept it in place. He moved his feet to bring his body closer and pressed his knee directly to Connor’s sternum. It was handled with a mildly irritated grunt and another swat but the hand rested on partially-bare flesh above the knee. The smooth material of boxers was lightly touched by shifting fingertips. Murphy could see Connor’s eyes staring at his hand, watching himself touch.

“We have time,” Murphy offered quietly. At first, Murphy wasn’t sure if he was going to get hit or shoved, but as the seconds pounded away with his heartbeat he wasn’t sure if there was a third option. Maybe acceptance? Just as he was preparing to move even closer, the hand pushed his leg away. More on the side of being an ass this time, the younger brother pushed his knee back into place. For a few seconds the two shoved back and forth until Connor pushed upright and raised his foot. Chuckling, Murphy backpedaled and kept a close eye on that foot.

Connor shook his head as he went to get dressed.

~

Breakfast was a quick pair of scrambled eggs--Murphy had planned on omlettes but it hadn’t worked out that way--and waffles. Once that was done, the two dressed for chilly morning air. Rosaries nestled against their chest and they headed out. They went out a little early to swing by the corner store for a carton of smokes. They argued over who would get the first one but Murphy offered to carry the carton and simply opened a pack right before his brother got his open. In retaliation, Connor pulled it from Murphy’s lips. He guffawed obnoxiously and rushed away as Murphy chased him. They kept it up nearly three blocks, apologizing every time they passed someone. They stopped in favor of actually lighting their smokes and finishing them before getting to the church.

On the corner of the block right before the church they stood and finished their smokes. They had a few more minutes and took their time puffing out both smoke and pointing at each others white breath on regular exhales. As they started to cross, the two boys looked left and right but they did so where they looked the opposite direction from each other so as they walked they both knew if one side was unsafe they would stop the other. But they also double-checked each other out of habit in case they were alone at any time. Right outside of the church, Connor grabbed Murphy’s coat at the elbow and tugged him a few steps from the street.

“We’re goin’ into tha church and--”

“'A course.”

“Shut it! We’re goin’ in and we’re goin’ to confession.”

"Na, fuck you."

"Murph!" Connor gripped his brothers arm and tugged him back so he didn't have to talk too loud. "Wha' we did needs ta be confessed and ye canno' argue."

Murphy thought about it hard but quick. Standing upright, he shoved his brother's hand away. Tossing him a disgusted face, he took a sharp step backward.

“What are ye on about? Nothin’ happened.” Sizing Connor up and down, Murphy turned sharply and strode with squared shoulders into the church. He would be damned if he was going to paw after his brother if the man couldn’t handle what they had done. Sure, what they had started was sinful but Murphy wasn’t sure anymore if them not having full intercourse counted.

They had their own spot on the pews and Connor joined him less than two minutes after Murphy sat down. He passed a book over when the sermon started and everything seemed fine. Except Murphy couldn’t stop being irritated. The irritation only grew tenfold when mass was over and Connor got up only to go directly to the confessional booth. It would have been so easy to turn around and walk out of the church, leaving Connor to his own devices. He damn sure was mad enough about the whole stupid situation.

Instead, he found himself with hands shoved in pockets near the entrance to the church. Most of those leaving gave him a nod, patted his shoulder, or wished him a good day. One small child ogled him as they passed. He offered a wave and the child waved back right before her mother corralled her away and through the door. Ahh, well.

The time it took for Connor to come out seemed ridiculous but Murphy didn’t say anything. There was a glance from his elder brother when he stepped out from the box and then he strode over. Without a word the two walked out and into the chilly air. Connor handed over a cigarette and they lit theirs almost simultaneously before turning and walking away. Their jobs started in a few hours so heading home and getting something to eat was priority number one. There was so much that Murphy wanted to say but he let it go up into the air with each puff of smoke. Somewhere in the distance a horn honked and he glanced over his shoulder. Connor turned at the same time and they bumped shoulders. It felt nice, normal. Comfortable.

Whatever had happened in the confessional straightened Connor out pretty nice, it seemed. Their conversations were not tense or dismissive and they joked about one of the regulars at the bar sleeping in the dog house last week once again. They argued over who was making food--Murphy lost from a noogie and a knee to the ribs, this one being mostly on accident--and then enjoyed waffles. It was one of Murphy’s better meals that he both enjoyed cooking and was good at. Connor wasn’t too fond of them but he suffered through them considering he’d forced the younger to cook. He’d survive.

“Mum’s birthday is soon.” Murphy noted as they were preparing to head to work. Connor paused with his shirt halfway on and then whipped his head around. On the far wall hung a calendar that they, admittedly, didn’t look at horribly often.

“Ah, yer right. What are we gettin’ her?”

“I dunno. She liked tha berries last year but the price went up on tha shippin’. We could go for tha butterfly card. The one that does tha… tha…” Murphy framed a box in front of himself and then fluttered his hands upward. “Tha paper one.”

“Ye daft? Those cost even more!”

“Wouldn’t it make her smile, though?” Murphy grinned and Connor seemed forced to nod though he had a smile on his face. So, it was agreed upon. They’d send her a card.

After a hard day of work, Murphy tugs on his coat and hands over Connor’s.

“I’m no’ goin’ to tha bar tonight. Ye go ahead if ya want.” Stunned, the younger brother shoulders his coat into place and then just watches the other. Connor doesn’t appear to have noticed what he said got a reaction as he simply headed away.

“W-wait, what? Where ya goin’?” It wasn’t often that they spent time away from each other. Murphy could function alone but the last time that Connor didn’t want to drink, they had a lot of issues. The difference then was at least Connor came to the bar with him.

“I…” Murphy grabbed Connor’s arm and forced him to stop walking. They were only about half a block away from work, neither of them having gone for their smokes. Murphy was too focused and Connor apparently was distracted, if his shifting eyes were anything to go on. “I did no’ actually…” He made eye contact with his younger brother and breathed in a trembling breath before stealing his shoulders. “I did no’ confess.” He pulled his arm away and Murphy was forced to either make a scene or let go. “At least no’ about tha’.”

Though it was only a few seconds, the silence between them lasted an eternity. People walked around them, giving the bare minimum space. Murphy wasn’t sure what to do with his hands so they hung limply at his sides as he tried to figure out what to say or do next. Was he supposed to do anything? What did anyone do in this type of situation?

“Why--”

“Shut yer mouth!” Connor hissed to shut up his younger brother. “I’m goin’ home and ya can go get some drinks.”

“What if I wanna come with ya?” The silence came back, both staring at each other. Murphy stood his ground, shoulders just as squared. Heat tingled in his veins at what might become of this. Did Connor not confess because he finally saw? Could he finally talk Connor into seeing how this wasn’t so bad?

In a brilliant, startling realization, Murphy found that he had, at some point, accepted the way he felt.

Without a word, Connor reached out and grabbed Murphy’s wrist. The younger brother let himself get pulled along as the sidewalk was eaten up by their steps. The city could have been burning but Murphy wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He stared mostly at the back of his brother, sometimes through the puff of air out of his lungs. He had a violent urge building inside of himself to run his fingers through that messy hair, to kiss the nap of that neck all around the base of Connor’s skull. To nibble an ear or two. Feel those hands. The possibilities were endless if Connor had crossed the line with him. The heat of the palm against his wrist pulsated heat through his own body and by the time they arrived at the apartments Murphy was vibrant with fire in his veins and a mind full of needs.


End file.
